


When The Things You've Planned Need a Helping Hand

by Proskenion



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1920s, Alcohol, Also Moody Aziraphale, Angst, BAMF!Aziraphale, Disagreement, Flapper!Crowley, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Singing, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Swearing, They're both sulking at some point, well kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 17:17:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21212225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Proskenion/pseuds/Proskenion
Summary: Aziraphale looked at his pocket watch, and seeing it was more than half past eight already, decided he had had enough. When he looked up, determined to leave, his jaw dropped in a strangled gasp.Crowley gives Aziraphale an appointment in some night club in the middle of the 1920s. The angel isn't ready for the demon's request, and he's even less ready for the demon's new look.





	When The Things You've Planned Need a Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NaniiebimWorks](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=NaniiebimWorks).

> Hello my darlings ! 
> 
> So, this fic has been inspired by this tumblr post : https://naniiebimworks.tumblr.com/post/187959553323/1920s-flapper-crowley-and-aziraphale-trying-not  
The atmosphere of the fic is different from the one in the tumblr post, but I just found this art gorgeous and I fell in love with Flapper!Crowley… So here we are ^^'
> 
> Hope you'll love it !

Aziraphale fidgetted on his seat, uneased. The club was crowded, dark, and too many people were drunk already. At least, the champagne was good. Aziraphale emptied his flute and looked around. 

Crowley had asked him to come and meet him at this club. The angel had gotten the telegram on the night before, a message both precise and unclear. _Meet me at the Singing Serpent at 8 pm tomorrow, important request to ask you_. For a brief moment Aziraphale had considered ignoring it, but here he was now, waiting for Crowley who was, God forgives, damnably late. 

Aziraphale looked at his pocket watch, and seeing it was more than half past eight already, decided he had had enough. When he looked up, determined to leave, his jaw dropped in a strangled gasp. 

Crowley was coming towards him. The demon was dressed in an all black dress with dark purple fringe stopping just above his – well, _her_ knees. Her red hair was cut just below her ears, with curls being hold still by a black headband ornamented with a black feather. She was wearing an outrageously red lipstick, and though her eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, you could guess the strong black eyeliner. She walked through the tables, the tnatalising snake-like swaying of her hips increased by her high-heels shoes. Aziraphale gulped, and tried to act natural when Crowley came to sit next to him. 

‘Hi,’ Crowley said, ‘sorry I’m late.’ 

‘It’s – It’s alright. Well, no, actually, it’s not, I was about to leave to be honest. I’ll ask you to be on time next time you – you summon me somewhere. Especially somwhere like – _that_.’

Crowley looked at him with a mocking smile. She looked at the empty glass and commented on the quality of the champagne. Then she turned, called a waiter and asked for a full bottle. Aziraphale cleared his throat, and arranged his clothes. 

‘So, you’re a woman again ?’ he asked, matter-of-factly. 

‘Apparently so,’ Crowley answer, quite seductive. ‘Don’t you like it ?’ 

‘I… It suits you. I suppose.’ 

Crowley smiled. 

‘I find this flapper fashion extremely alluring. I mean, it is gorgeous and outrageous.’

‘Obviously,’ Aziraphale mumbled, slightly judgemental. ‘I wouldn’t be surprise to learn you’re behind it.’ 

At that moment the waiter came back with the bottle and two flutes. He poured them champagne and walked away, before what Crowley gave him a wink. Aziraphale felt an unexpected urge to kick the boy as he passed next to him with his now empty tray. 

‘I didn’t, though,’ Crowley said, picking up her glass. ‘Invented that style, I mean. I wish I had.’ 

Aziraphale gave him an impatient glare. Taking his own flute, he asked :

‘So, what do you want from me ?’ 

‘Ah, yes. Business. Of course. Angels don’t have time to enjoy themselves, have they ?’

‘Stop it right away and tell me what that request of yours is.’ 

Crowley stared at Aziraphale through his sunglasses. She smirked, and sipped some champagne, slowly – very slowly. Aziraphale let out an annoyed groan. Crowley sighed. 

‘Fine. I need tour help.’ 

‘In what way, exactly ?’

‘I’ve been asked to go to Northern Ireland. Find this young rebel, tempt him into doing… something, anything, to make some trouble.’ 

‘And what does it have to do with me ?’ Aziraphale asked suspiciously, sipping his own champagne. 

‘Well, I can’t leave London at the moment, but they want it done quickly. So, I was thinking…’

‘No,’ Aziraphale cut him short. ‘There’s no way I’m going to Northern Ireland in your place.’ 

‘Please, it won’t be a big deal,’ Crowley said, putting his glass down on the table and looking at Aziraphale straight in the eyes. ‘It’s just a little tempting, and you…’

‘It’s not just a little tempting, Crowley,’ Aziraphale interrupted again. ‘You know how tensed the situation already is. I’m not going up there starting a new war !’

‘Oh come on, don’t be so dramatic !’ Crowley exclaimed. ‘You won’t start any war, it’s just about, you know, making a bit of trouble.’

‘Yes, the kind of trouble that actually will end up in new battles and deaths. I can’t…’

‘I’ll be in big trouble myself if it isn’t done, Aziraphale’ Crowley insisted. 

Aziraphale looked at him. For a second he thought he would accept, but then he asked :

‘Why can’t you leave London anyway ?’ 

‘It doesn’t matter. I can’t, that’s all you need to know. Please, help me.’ 

‘Tell me why you can’t leave London and do it yourself.’ 

Crowley grumbled with irritation and looked away. Aziraphale was staring at him, waiting. Crowley mumbled it was none of the angel business, but this answer did not satisfy Aziraphale at all. Crowley crossed his legs and stubbornly looked at the stage, where a band was playing some jazz music. Aziraphale looked inside his champagne flute, brooding, and emptied it. When the silence started to become awkward, Crowley finally asked :

‘Will you help me or not ?’

‘No,’ Aziraphale said sharply. ‘I’m not going anywhere doing temptation for you without you giving me good enough reasons to do so !’

‘Fine,’ Crowley mumbled, annoyed, and looking away at the stage again. ‘Goodbye, then.’

‘Yes, goodbye,’ Aziraphale replied, his voice equally annoyed.

The angel stood up and got out of the club without even a look back, leaving Crowley seething on his chair. 

Aziraphale walked angrily through the door and into the streets. How dare he – _she_ ? Crowley couldn’t possibly believe he would simply go and do his demonic work like that, just for – for what ? Her beautiful eyes ? Rubbish ! He was an angel, for heaven’s sake, he couldn’t… He couldn’t… 

I’ll be in big trouble myself if it isn’t done, Aziraphale.

‘Jes – I mean – argh ! Good Lord, forgive me,’ Aziraphale exclaimed, turning aroung and going back to the _Singing Serpent_.

He pushed the door of the club and stormed inside. But after a few steps he noticed the table they’ve been sitting at was deserted. Crowley was gone. Aziraphale sighed, and walked to the door, full of sorrow and guilt. 

And then, a voice from the stage made him stop. He shook his head and turned. 

Sat on a dark grand piano, lit by one single subdued spotlight, Crowley was singing. 

_Everything went wrong_  
And the whole day long  
I'd feel so blue  
For the longest while  
I'd forget to smile  
Then I met you  
Now that my blue days have passed  
Now that I've found you at last 

Aziraphale swallowed. Crowley’s voice was so soft and melancolic. The pianist who accompanied her was staring at her, smiling, but Crowley wouldn’t even glance at him. She was simply sitting on the piano with her legs crossed, head down. 

_I'll be loving you Always_  
With a love that's true Always  
When the things you've planned  
Need a helping hand  
I will understand Always 

_Always_

Crowley’s voice trembled, and he looked up. Aziraphale stepped back into the darkness, making sure of staying unseen but without stopping staring at Crowley. Something warm appeared inside of the angel’s chest, something warm and painful. 

_Days may not be fair Always_  
That's when I'll be there Always  
Not for just an hour  
Not for just a day  
Not for just a year  
But Always 

Crowley kept singing and Aziraphale kept watching, amazed. He had no idea Crowley could sing, yet alone singing so well. Demons aren’t famous for their singing. But Crowley’s voice was soft, and strong, and sad. Crowley’s voice was – yes – pure. 

When the song ended Aziraphale gasped, and he realised he had been crying. Embarrassed, he wiped away his tears and got out. He didn’t see Crowley wiping away some tears as well before gliding smoothly down the grand piano. 

Aziraphale ran outside, in search of some fresh air. He couldn’t comprehend what was happening to him, what strange emotion was overwhelming him. He stumbled away from the door, stunned and restless. 

Inside, Crowley walked off-stage. She ignored the technician complimented her and walked to the back door. She went outside, lighting up a cigarette. She did not particularly enjoy smocking, but it gave her an excuse to be outside – and it would keep her hands and mind busy. She knew she shouldn’t let it affect her that much. But she couldn’t help it, any refusal from Aziraphale, any rejection felt like Hell. She could feel the anguish crawling in her belly, the tears threatening to fall, the nausea coming up her throat. 

‘Hey, beauty, come over here !’

The hoarse voice drew Crowley out of her painful reverie. Three men, obviously drunk and up to no good, were coming to her. Crowley smirked. Some distraction, at last. 

‘Are you talking to me ?’ she asked.

‘Who else, princess ?’ said one of the men. 

‘Come, we won’t hurt you,’ said the first one who spoke.

‘On the contrary,’ added the third one, ‘we’ll give you so much pleasure.’ 

Crowley dropped her cigarette on the sidewalk and crushed it with her heel. She faced the men. 

‘I wouldn’t try to bother me, if I were you,’ she warned. 

‘We won’t bother you, ma’am, I swear,’ said one of them, mimicking a military salute. 

Crowley stared at them as they were getting closer. She glanced at the back door of the club. She could reach it fast enough to avoid a fight. Maybe that’s what was best to do. But she had some frustration to let out. 

‘You’ve been warned,’ she declared. 

‘Come on, don’t be a bitch, come and ‘ave some fun !’ The first one said. 

Crowley smirked. Her heart started ponding with adrenaline. One of the men caught her by her wrist and drew her to them. 

‘Let me go !’ Crowley said. 

‘Why those glasses, heh ? Show us your eyes, princess !’ 

A hiss escaped Crowley’s lips, threatening, dangerous. The men looked at her, incredulous. They burst out into laughter. 

‘Hey,’ a voice called from behind, ‘leave the lady alone.’ 

Crowley froze at the voice. Could it really be ?...

‘Mind your own business,’ one of the men replied. 

‘Oh, but this is actually the only business I have right now,’ Aziraphale said. ‘Now, I repeat, leave the lady alone. It is in your best interest to do as I say.’ 

‘And what will you do, heh ?’ asked the man who had caught Crowley’s wrist. 

‘You really don’t want to find out, believe me,’ Aziraphale said, souding as he really didn’t want to come to such extremities. ‘Please, gentlemen, just do as you're told. Leave her alone.’

‘She’s ours, we saw her first.’

‘What a bugger like you want from a girl anyway ?’

Aziraphale sighed deeply. When he spoke, he sounded almost apologetic :

‘Alright, you brought it upon yourselves, my dear fellows.’

He clicked his fingers. There was a sound like air-suction and the instant later the three men disappeared. Aziraphale smiled, visibly pleased with himself. 

‘Jolly good,’ he said. 

Then he looked at Crowley, standing a few steps away from him and staring at him. An embarrassed silence fell. Aziraphale cleared his throat, fidgetting awkwardly. 

‘I could have gotten rid of them on my own, you know,’ Crowley finally said. 

‘You’re welcome,’ Aziraphale replied, ‘my pleasure.’

Crowley snorted. 

‘I thought you were gone,’ she said. 

‘Well, I was,’ Aziraphale explained, ill-at-ease, ‘ but then I came back.’ 

‘Why ?’

Aziraphale looked at the demon. He was glad it was night and the street was dark, because he could feel his cheeks and ears blushing warmly. He mumbled : 

‘Well… _When the things you've planned need a helping hand I will understand Always._ Did I get it right ?’ 

Aziraphale could see Crowley crumple in front of him. She opened her mouth, once, twice, and once again, like a dying carp. Her voice trembled.

‘You… You saw… You heard…’

‘Yes,’ Aziraphale admitted in a breath. 

‘Oh G – Sat – Somebody…’ Crowley whispered. 

Crowley looked like she was about to collapse on the floor and turned into a puddle of agonising demon dust. Aziraphale walked to her and friendly put his hands on her shoulder. 

‘Hey, it’s alright, it was…’

‘It’s not alright !’ Crowley exclaimed, getting away from him. ‘It’s definitely not alright ! You weren’t supposed to hear that, see that ! Ever !’

‘Why ?’ Aziraphale asked, confused. 

‘Because… Because… _Because_ !’ 

The both of them stared at each other in silence. Crowley was breathless, trying and failing not to shiver. Aziraphale was mystified. Finally, he said :

‘Well, I just wanted to let you know I… I’ll do it. I’ll go to Northern Ireland.’

‘You don’t have to,’ Crowley answered, a bit sharply. 

‘But I will. I want to. I want to… Help you.’ 

Crowley stared at the angel, impassive. She was fighting really hard against herself to repress the lump in her throat and act natural. 

‘Thanks,’ she breathed. 

Crowley spun around and walked to the back door of the club. Aziraphale ran after her. 

‘Wait ! Is that why you can’t leave London ? The… Singing ?’

Crowley stopped, a hand on the doorknob, his back to Aziraphale. She sighed. 

‘Yes,’ she admitted. 

‘Well, you could have told me.’ 

Crowley glanced at Aziraphale above her shoulder. Aziraphale went on :

‘There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Actually, I found it rather lovely.’

Crowley clenched her fingers around the doorknob. She closed her eyes, taking a huge breath in. Had Aziraphale the slightest idea of what his words meant to her ? 

‘Thank you,’ she answered, without turning back. 

She opened the door and disappeared inside. 

‘You’re welcome,’ Aziraphale whispered to the closed door. 

He waited a little, but the door stayed close. So he walked away in the night and called a cab. He gave the driver his bookshop adress and sat comfortably in the back. He closed his eyes. He smiled. 

_I'll be loving you Always_  
With a love that's true Always  
When the things you've planned  
Need a helping hand  
I will understand Always 

_Always_

_Days may not be fair Always_  
That's when I'll be there Always  
Not for just an hour  
Not for just a day  
Not for just a year  
But Always 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading !
> 
> The song Crowley sings is called 'Always' and has been written by Irvin Berlin in 1925 :)


End file.
